


Oh Father

by Aki_Aiko



Category: Glee
Genre: Child Abuse, Community: glee_angst_meme, M/M, Physical Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Suicide, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-27
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-19 16:37:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/575355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aki_Aiko/pseuds/Aki_Aiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt is Burt nephew.  His mother is dying and his father abusive.  This is the boy Blaine meets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: au, noncon, sexual abuse of child by parent, violence, character death, and suicide. Title is from Madonna's song Oh Father.
> 
> PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS.

Will Shuester had expected the Fabrays, the Joneses, and the Cohen-Changs and the Changs, as well as Finn's mom and Brittany's parents, but out of them all, he never expected the Hummels to show up on Parent Teacher Night.

Mr. Hummel was a short, squat man with a beer gut jutting out over the waistband of his jeans. His son, Kurt, obviously took after his mother, a tall willowy woman with pale, clear skin. She could have passed for a model, if not for the dark circles under her eyes and the defeated way she carried herself, as if the world had already beaten her down. A small bruise marred her the skin at her neck. It looked suspiciously like a bruise.

Kurt himself trailed behind them, head down, one hand clutching his dark green bookbag to his chest. Will stood as they approached.

"Mr. Hummel," he said. "So glad you could make it."

"Yeah, right," Mr. Hummel snapped. "I wouldn't be here except Kurt here says you aren't giving him his due."

"I'm sorry?" He looked at Kurt but the boy ducked his head away, avoiding eye contact.

Mr. Hummel got up close, too close into Will's personal space. "I know my boy's not that good at much and I don't really like all this sissy stuff he's got going on, but no one pushes the Hummels around."

"Mr. Hummel, Kurt's a very smart kid-"

A finger was thrust against his chest. "Let him sing whatever damn song he wants, got it. I don't want to have to come back here again."

Mr. Hummel pivoted on his heels and barked out, "Come on. I'm not missin' dinner for this crap."

Mrs. Hummel followed placidly behind, but Kurt paused to mouth, 'I'm sorry' at Will before his father yanked him along by the arm. Will watched them go, disturbed by what he'd just seen. As he'd tried to tell the other man, Kurt was a smart kid, in advanced classes, and so talented. But he was just so withdrawn, too much into his own world.

And he had a lovely voice, if only he would use it more. His voice on the assigned solos was soft and threadbare, as if he was afraid to be heard on his own. Will could tell by the way Kurt's face had brightened at the mention of Wicked that he was interested in it, but he'd said nothing, not a word, about wanting to sing a solo.

Rachel was the better choice, either way. She knew how to use her voice. The audience would have had to strain just to hear Kurt's. He made a note to himself to have a talk with Kurt Monday to find out what was going on. He'd been meaning to for a while now, just to make sure the kid was okay, but other things had gotten in the way lately and it slipped his mind.

It was probably nothing. Kurt was just shy. Nothing wrong with that.

Maybe Emma could talk to him instead.

x

Kurt hadn't meant to get Mr. Schue in trouble. He'd just been singing in the shower. He wouldn't have even guessed his father was listening. Normally, the man simply sneered at any mention of his son's extracurricular activity. Last night, though he still sneered, he'd shown an uncharacteristic interest in what Kurt sang to himself. Kurt told him about Wicked and, in some pathetic need to connect with his father, wind up talking about the solo his teacher had simply handed to Rachel Berry. He hadn't even asked if anyone else wanted to audition for it. Not that Kurt had planned to. Doing the weekly assignments were nerve wracking enough. No way could he handle going out on a stage and singing by himself in front of a crowd of people.

He should have known his father would have taken it as an affront. After all, 'no one pushes the Hummels around,' was the family motto.

Kurt's arm was throbbing by the time they got home, a hand shaped bruise circling his bicep from when he'd been dragged from the school grounds. Bruises were nothing new. His torso was covered in faded blues, yellows, and greens. Even his arms and legs were marked with signs of abuse. But never his face, never where people could see and wonder.

Dinner that night was a box of macaroni and cheese. Kurt and his mom ate at the table, everything set out in front of them just so, as if they were at a fancy soiree instead of the Hummels' faded, mildewy kitchen. His mother had shown him the proper way to lay the dishes and silverware when he was five.

"Some people call it snobbery," she'd told him. "But it's just good manners."

It was one of the many, small things she's taught him that had stuck over the years, like how to write thank you notes and how to wrap presents in ornate bows.

Mr. Hummel ate his food in the living room while watching a football game on the TV, his plate balanced on his stomach. He yelled for a beer midway through and Kurt's mom pulled herself wearily up and brought him one from the refrigerator.

Kurt frowned as he watched her move. Her limbs were slow and clumsy and she nearly dropped the can on the carpet before she even made it to the couch. He worried about her but, like his father, turned away and pretended that nothing was wrong.

That night, as he lay curled up in bed, the door to his room creaked open. Light from the hallway flooded the room, a hulking shadow soon blocking it out. Kurt squeezed his eyes shut and clutched at blanket. It was ten years old and decorated in Toy Story characters. His parents never bought him another, even when he finally hit adolescence.

The bed creaked as the person, his own father, sat down. Hands landed on his back, under his t-shirt, and began to rub small circles into his skin. Kurt tensed beneath them, but they didn't stop, merely began to travel around to his chest and stomach. Mr. Hummel's breathing grew labored. He grasped at one of Kurt's hands and pulled it back to rub against the bulge in his jeans.

Kurt turned his head into his pillow to muffle the few whimpers that escaped his lips. His hand was trapped, no matter how he tried to pull away, until his father's hips stilled. He grunted once, then lay limply against the bed. A moment later, he stood and left the room.

x

Burt Hummel drove up to his brother's house early Saturday morning. He liked to take Kurt to his house on the weekends, get him out of his own for a while. Burt and his wife never had kids and, even before she'd died, Kurt had become like a son to them. There was even a basement room set up just for him, and the fact that he'd have to give it up...well, Kurt was a good kid. Surely, he'd understand.

The Hummel house in Lima was rundown, white exterior coated with dirt and one of the windows knocked out. Chuck had put some cardboard on the inside of the window, which was ridiculous. The thing fell apart every time it rained.

He didn't knock when he got to the door. After all these years, they knew he was coming. Kurt probably had a small bag ready to go sitting by the door. Inside, Charlie lay on the couch, looking wan and pale.

"Hey." She waved her arm at him weakly, then called in a slightly stronger voice, "Kurt, your uncle's here."

Burt peered at her, concerned. "You been to a doctor yet, Charlie?"

"Oh, no," Charlie said. "You know we can't afford that, not with Chuck out of work and all."

The man hadn't looked for work in at least eight years, Burt wanted to say, but held his tongue when he saw Kurt enter the kitchen, a steaming bowl held carefully in both hands.

"I know this isn't exactly breakfast food," he was saying to his mom, "but I did some research on the school's computer and chicken soup really is the best thing to help fight illnesses." He sat the bowl beside her on the coffee table and glanced over at their guest. "Hi, Uncle Burt."

While Charlie lifted up the spoon with one gaunt wristed hand, Kurt crossed the room and pulled a blanket it out of a nearby closet. He tucked it carefully around his mother, fretting as if she were the child and he the parent.

"Kurt," Burt said to get his attention. "We got to get a move on if we want to make it to my place before lunch."

Kurt looked nervously at Charlie, who shooed him away.

"Go on, honey. Go have fun, I'll be fine."

"But-"

At a loud groan coming from the direction of his parents' room, Kurt jumped. He stepped back, closer to Burt.

Charlie looked at Burt. "Will you take his stuff to the car, please?" She set her bowl down and gestured for Kurt to come closer. "Come give your mom a hug."

Burt stepped out the door with Kurt's bag in his hand while the two of them murmured quietly to each other.

"You be good, okay?" he heard Charlie say as the door shut behind him.

Kurt emerged a few minutes later and got in the car. He wiped quickly at his eyes and sniffed once but kept his head turned to the window so Burt wouldn't see his face.

Burt put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry. We'll be back Sunday night. I'm sure she'll be fine."

Kurt finally turned to look at him, a small smile forced on his face. "I know."

The truck trundled out of the driveway and left the broken home behind.

They stopped at Burt's wife's grave on the way out of town. Kurt fussed over the headstone, brushing dirt and debris off its smooth surface and refilling the holder with new flowers they'd picked up from the grocery store. When he was done, Kurt sat on the grass, drew his knees up to his chest, and stared mournfully at the spot where Anne Elizabeth Hummel was laid to rest. Burt wondered if he was imagining his mother in that spot, but it would be a cruel thing to ask a child, so he remained silent and waited until Kurt finally stood to leave.

As they walked out of the cemetery, Burt reached behind him and soon felt a soft hand grip his own.

He waited until they were on the road again before he cleared his throat and said, "So...there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

Kurt looked over at him with a mildly interested expression on his face.

"You know I've been seeing that woman I told you about for a while now. Well, we've talked it over and made a big decision."

Kurt frowned at him. "You're getting married?"

"Whoa, hold up there, kiddo, we haven't been together that long."

"Oh. Then what's the big news?"

Burt grinned. "We're moving in together."

His nephew made a noncommittal noise and turned his head back towards the window. Burt ground his teeth in frustration. He wanted Kurt to be happy for him, be the bubbly little kid he used to be, not this quiet, unhappy creature he'd turned into.

"You know," Burt said. "It turns out, her son is one of those kids in Glee Club. Finn?"

Kurt's head whipped back around at that. "Finn _Hudson_?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

"Finn Hudson is moving in with you. Wait-" Kurt straightened in his seat. "What about my room?"

"I'm sorry, bud, you're going to have to share."

The inquisitive expression on Kurt's face dimmed. "Oh. Okay." And he turned once again to the window.

"I'm thinkin' about adding another room to the house after Christmas," Burt added. "I mean, I know you only come over on the weekends and stuff, but, well, we set the basement up for you when you were a tiny little thing. I know it must suck to think of someone else being in your space like that while you're gone."

Kurt kept his face turned away. "I don't care. It's your house."

Burt shook his head at the silence which fell over them. Someday, he'd get Kurt to talk to him, really talk to him, about all the things that were bothering him. Home, school...boys. He wished his wife was there. Anne was always so much better at these things than him. She'd even be able to make Kurt laugh. He hadn't in ages, not really. Maybe could Carole could fill the hole that Anne had left behind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please Heed the Warnings. Abuse occurs in this chapter, too.

The time spent at the cemetery caused them to get home late. It was time to eat again by the time they walked through the front door. Kurt shooed his uncle out of the kitchen, visions of greasy bacon burgers the man would undoubtedly cook dancing in his head. He rummaged through the kitchen until he found a pack of turkey sandwich meat and dug out a loaf of bread from the little bread box set on the counter. It wasn't an ideal choice but it would do in a pinch.

While Burt settled on the couch for a marathon of some trucker show, Kurt went down to his room and put a CD on. The stereo was one of many gifts Burt had given to him over the years. All the big, expensive stuff stayed here in his basement bedroom where it wouldn't disappear while he was at school or out visiting. He had a TV once that his father had unplugged and taken away right in the middle of a Top Model episode, one where Tyra was yelling at a girl in true diva mode about being ungrateful.

Now everything stayed at Burt's. Kurt merely shrugged it off and moved on. It would have been weird to have Beyonce blasting through the house with his dad in the next room, anyway. Besides, his mom was sick and didn't need the noise.

After fooling around on his computer for a bit, he came back up to find a stranger. She looked vaguely familiar. She was sitting beside Burt, who had an arm slung around her shoulders. Both adults started when he entered the room, the woman rising and smiling at him nervously.

"Hi," she said. "I'm Carole. Burt said he told you about me?"

Ugh, Kurt thought, eying her denim outfit distastefully. It was so eighties.

"Dude," a new voice said, "I didn't know you lived here."

Kurt's jaw dropped as he took in Finn Hudson sitting in the armchair next to the couch.

"I don't."

"Kurt stays with me on the weekends," Burt said. He put his arm around Carole's shoulder. "So, Kurt, what do you think? Pretty nice, huh?"

Kurt kept his gaze firmly away from Finn. "I'm sure she's lovely." Somewhere under all that denim. His eyes hurt just looking at it.

She and Burt exchanged glances, causing little warning bells to go off in Kurt's head.

"I was thinking-and Burt agrees-that the two of us should go grocery shopping. I thought I'd make dinner tonight but your uncle has so little real food here, and we could get to know each other a little better while we're there."

Kurt stared at her, then looked at Burt. The man looked so hopeful Kurt just didn't have it in him to stay no. He jerked his head into a semblance of a nod instead.

"Great!" Carole clapped her hands together. "How do you feel about Wal-Mart?"

Dear God. Just kill him now.

"It's fine."

x

Carole was used to boys being rowdy and demanding, boy who were handfuls to rein in. She didn't know quite how to act with the one currently padding behind her in the produce section. He'd hardly said two words since getting in the car, just spent most of his time staring out at the scenery passing by.

"Burt loaned me his credit card," he suddenly said as she looked over a couple of tomatoes.

"Oh." She set them down and turned towards him. "Did you need something? We can-"

"No, I..." He shuffled his feet awkwardly. "Can I go look around?"

Carole frowned. "Sure. Just wait for me by the registers, okay?"

He didn't answer, just sprinted away. Carole sighed, disappointed. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea. She spent the rest of the trip roaming the aisles, putting the groceries in the cart by herself. She caught sight of Kurt looking at clothes, muttering to himself, but soon lost sight of him again when he turned away.

They met up at the registers about an hour later. Kurt had a magazine and a couple of items that looked suspiciously like something from the women's section. He fiddled with the tags while they waited, avoiding her eyes.

When he set a Vogue magazine down next to the pants, it hit her. "I guess your mom doesn't get out too much, huh? I'm sorry to hear she's sick." Carole chuckled lightly. "It's nice of you to pick some things up for her. I only wish Finn were half so considerate."

Kurt folded his arms across his chest and gave her a sullen look. Carole sighed again.

x

When they got home, Kurt fled to his basement bedroom, his face still tinged red with embarrassment. He'd hoped that Carole wouldn't have notice what he'd picked up. Burt never said anything about his clothes or his magazines or all the little bottles of moisturizers he liked to pick up.

With a loud sigh, Kurt popped a CD into his stereo and opened his closet door to hang up the white t-shirt (100 percent cotton) beside the rest of his more expensive clothes. His uncle spoiled him, Kurt knew he did, and he sometimes felt guilty for letting him. But he never could find it in himself to say no, not when he saw those Doc Martens at the mall or the cast recording of Wicked at the record store.

It was probably because Burt didn't have children of his own. Kurt was like...like...a pseudo-son. Someone he could dote on until he finally had a kid of his own. What kind of kid would Burt have, anyway? A son, Kurt decided. He'd definitely have a boy. One who liked sports and girls and liked going to steak houses, those dens of greasy iniquity. Someone like...

Kurt paused, his new jeans clutched in one hand.

Someone like Finn.

"Your room looks kind of gay," said the very boy as he stomped his way down the stairs.

Kurt glanced around all the Broadway musical posters lining the wall and felt a warm rush of blood make its way into his cheeks. "What are you doing in here, Finn?"

"You're supposed to come up for dinner. Mom's almost done."

"I'll be there in a minute."

With Finn gone, Kurt turned back to his closet and flipped through a few pieces, trying to decide on an outfit for dinner. He stopped, though, when he remembered exactly who they were eating with. Finn would laugh at him if he wore these kinds of things in front of him, when all he'd ever worn to school were what he had on now. Loose t-shirt, jeans that didn't hug his hips the way he liked, and scuffed up sneakers that had seen better days.

What was he going to do when Finn lived here? This was the only place he was free to express himself, and if that was taken away...

Well, maybe just for today he could overlook it. Next weekend, even if Finn and Carole were there, he'd wear what he wanted.

Burt gave him a strange look at his outfit choice when he sat down at the kitchen table but didn't say anything. The dinner was awkward and stilted and Kurt tuned out about fifteen minutes into it until a loud bout of laughter jerked him out of his own head.

"How was I supposed to know that was your son out there?" Burt was saying.

"I kept yelling his number," Carole said. Her tone was stern but she had a fond smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"You didn't like how I played?" That was Finn, giving Burt a kicked puppy look.

"Look, son, you-" And then Burt started going off on some tangent about football, using terms that Kurt had no idea what they meant.

Kurt set down his fork. "I'm going to take a shower and go to bed."

"Oh, but you've hardly eaten anything," Carole said, eying the small dent he'd made on his plate. "I'm sorry, did you not like it?"

She looked so earnest, so _well-meaning_ , that Kurt couldn't not feel bad for her.

"No, no," he rushed to reassure her. "It's fine. I'm just really tired."

He shot Burt a pleading glance and got a small nod in return.

"I'll come down in a bit to say goodnight," his uncle said.

Kurt's stomach turned. That was clearly code for 'we have to talk.' They didn't do the whole talking thing. The few times they'd tried, it had consisted of Kurt mumbling at his sneakers and Burt eventually letting him go with a clap on the back.

He had a feeling this time was going to go a little differently.

Thankfully, the water was hot and it loosened some of the tense knots in his shoulder and back, though it stung a bit on the darker bruised spots of skin. He hummed to himself softly as he worked a bar of soap over his body, eventually unable to stop himself from breaking into song.

It was a Barbra song. As If We Never Said Goodbye. How could anyone resist Barbra? He threw himself into the song, despite the fact that he was wet, naked, and still standing under the showerhead. The water sprinkling down was like his own personal little orchestra.

His arms lifted on the 'and I've come home, at last' part. He could be as theatrical as he wanted, here where no one could see him.

When it was over, he felt as if a big weight had been lifted from his chest. He dipped his head back under the spray with a happy noise of contentment. All these thoughts of his were ridiculous. Burt loved him. So what if he didn't like football or he couldn't fix cars (okay, Finn probably couldn't do that, either). This was nothing to get worked up over.

When he stepped out of the bathroom, clad only in a bathrobe, Finn was waiting for him.

"Dude, that was awesome! Why don't you ever sing like that in Glee?"

"Ummm..." Kurt just stared up at him, speechless.

"He's a shower singer," Burt said. He put a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "He stayed locked up in there for an hour once singing showtunes."

"Burt," Kurt hissed. God, how embarrassing. He pulled himself up and raised his chin haughtily. "I'm going to my room now."

He slipped out from underneath Burt's hand and walked away from them.

Kurt dreamed that night about his mother. She looked at him with sad eyes and walked away from where he was curled into a tight ball on his bed, a giant shadow hovering over him. No matter how many times he cried out for her, she never came back.

A loud banging brought him abruptly out of sleep. He sat up in bed, sweat running down his face and his breath hitching. There was another bang and then Finn's frightened voice calling for Burt. Kurt leapt from the bed and raced up the stairs.

Finn stood frozen in the middle of the living room, staring at a shadow at the window.

"Kurt!"

Kurt jumped at the familiar voice.

"He knows your name," Finn whispered.

Suddenly Burt was there, pushing past the two boys. He opened the door just enough that Kurt could see his dad on the other side. They talked for a few minutes in low voices, until Kurt's father started yelling.

"You can't keep my son from me. I'll call the cops!" he railed.

"What you're going to do," Burt said, "is go home and sleep it off."

Chuck lurched forward and grabbed at the collar of Burt's shirt, causing Kurt to rush to the door. From somewhere behind him, Carole gasped.

"Dad, no." Kurt clutched at his father's arm until it fell away. "I'll come with you, okay?"

"Kurt," Burt started to say but stopped when Kurt turned to him with pleading eyes.

"I want to check on my mom."

Burt led him away by the arm. Kurt managed not to grimace at the fingers that dug lightly into a painful spot.

"You sure about this?" Burt asked when they were far enough away from the others.

Kurt nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat. He wasn't sure about this, he didn't _want_ to go home, but his dad would be so angry if he didn't.

He didn't bother to get his things or change out of his pajamas. Burt slipped him some money and Carole nudged a covered plate of spaghetti at him. She paused when he reached out to take it, her fingers circling his wrist.

"What happened to your arm?"

His hand closed over the plate and he pulled away. "Glee injury," he muttered. "I fell during rehearsal."

She opened her mouth to say something else but he turned away. His dad waited for him outside, leaning against his truck and smoking a cigarette. Kurt glanced once at the house. Burt stood at the door watching them, and Finn peeked out the window.

At the sight of his classmate's frowning face, Kurt hurried to get into the truck.

They pulled over five miles down the road.

"How much he give you?" Chuck asked. The cigarette still dangled from his lips, the lighted end glowing in the dark.

Kurt's fist tightened over the wad of money clenched in his hand. At the sign of defiance, Chuck reached over, grabbed Kurt's arm, and pulled it over the console. He yelped at the sudden pain but it was nothing compared to the cigarette grinding into the soft flesh of his inner arm. His hand fell open, the folded wad of bills tumbling out and landing on the driver's side floorboard.

Chuck plucked them off the floor and smirked. "He always was a softy, rescuing stray mutts like you."

Kurt said nothing, just rocked slightly in his seat with his arm cradled to his chest. He froze at the look his father gave him next. He knew that look, usually seen only in the confines of his room at night, when it was dark-like it was now. Even the headlights had been turned off.

A hand quickly snaked its way into Kurt's sleep-mussed hair and yanked him forward, the other unsnapping the button of Chuck's battered jeans.

Ten minutes later, the headlights flickered on and the truck pulled back onto the road, pointed toward home.


	3. Chapter 3

Finn kept shooting Kurt strange looks the next school day, he and Rachel whispering together at the front of the room from their seats in Glee. He ignored the both of them and made sure to slip out of the room before they had a chance to corner him. He wasn't talking about this. They had no business knowing anything about went on in his life, though he suspected Rachel's concern was more music related than anything else.

He could escape the questioning eyes of his peers all he wanted, but a student came to drop off a pass for him during the middle of French class and the next thing he knew, he was sitting in Ms. Pillsbury's office, watching her wipe down the top of her desk with extra strength cleaner.

He managed to brush aside her questions with a few placating words, finally just resorting to sneezing on her desk. He slipped out of the room easily while she sat frozen in horror, her big eyes fixated on the spot she thought he'd sneezed on.

And this was how his life went. People worried, asked questions, and moved on, though a part of him wanted to scream at them to _notice_. They never did, because he was good at hiding the things that hurt, even when he didn't want to.

If he could just pretend everything was fine, he didn't have to admit the things that weren't.

Finn moved into Burt's house during Gaga Week. Kurt had to move his things to one side of the room and emptied the closet of the clothes he rarely wore any more, now that the Hudsons were at the house more. In Glee Club, he watched enviously as the girls got to dress in Gaga outfits, while the boys acted like such, well, boys about it.

He suffered silently through the Kiss outfits, unhappy in the makeup forced onto his delicate complexion. It would take a week to get his skin back to optimal health, he just knew it.

"You okay, Kurt?" Mercedes asked after the boys' performance.

Kurt just shrugged his shoulders and went to wipe the gunk off his face. Azimio and Karofsky cornered him in the hallway and got in his face, taunting him, but it was never any fun when their victim didn't fight back. Kurt kept his head down and his mouth shut. He already had enough bruises.

Afterwards, he was left shaking but was still in one piece, managing to slide back into the group as they gathered together in the hall. Mercedes smiled at him and bumped his shoulder. He shied away from her touch, inching closer towards the lockers where she couldn't touch him.

Losing Regionals had the whole club in a funk. The kids all got together afterwards for some kind of feel good impromptu performance about how Glee Club had changed them, but Kurt didn't bother to show up because it hadn't changed him at all. Mr. Schuester certainly hadn't. The most the man ever did was to sic Ms. Pillsbury on him.

At home, his mother lay on the kitchen floor, long, dark hair spread out like a fan around her head. Kurt stared at her, shocked for a moment into stunned silence, before dropping his backpack and racing to her side. Burt had given him a prepaid cellphone a few weeks ago, which he'd been hiding with his school work. He pulled it out with shaking hands and called for help.

She was still alive when they got there, her pulse light and thready under Kurt's fingertips, but her skin was bone white, the skin under her eyes dark like a bruise.

As the EMTs carried her off on a stretcher, one stayed behind to ask, "Do you have anyone to call?"

Kurt looked up at the man from his position on the floor, then stared back down at his phone. "Yes," he said, nodding numbly. His fingers started to move before his brain kicked in enough to realize which number he was dialing.

"Hey, kiddo," Burt said. "What's going on?"

"Mom," Kurt started, but couldn't get further than that before his chin started to quiver.

The hand clutching his phone shook so hard he couldn't keep it steady against his ear. He let the phone drop to the floor and settle back against one of the cabinets to wait for Burt to come get him.

x

Burt held Kurt close to his side as they walked into the hospital, one arm around his nephew's shoulder. Cancer, the doctor said, too far developed for there to be any hope.

"Where's your dad?" Burt asked. Chuck should be there for this.

Kurt just shrugged, burying himself deeper into Burt's side. "I dunno. Can I see my mom now?"

They get the doctor's okay and file into the hospital room where Charlie lays half-propped up in bed. Kurt ran to her and let himself be wrapped up in arms, careful not to squeeze to tightly. She was sick. He couldn't be too rough. And he had to be brave, for her sake.

Sniffling back tears, he wiped his face before pulling away and smiling at her.

She brushed his bangs away from his forehead and gave him a weary smile in return. "There's my boy," she said softly. Her eyes drifted to Burt. "Did they tell you?"

Burt shuffled his feet. "Yeah. I'm sorry." If only she'd gone to the doctor's earlier...

Charlie looked away from him and glanced at the open door. "Where's your dad, honey?" she asked Kurt.

"He went to go sign some paperwork," Burt said before Kurt could answer. "He'll be back soon."

"Oh." Charlie sank back against the pillows with a sigh. Her eyes were drifting closed, the hand she'd been running along Kurt's arm dropping on top of the blanket.

"Mom," Kurt said nervously.

"Mommy's just tired," she murmured, her breath slowing down as she spoke.

"C'mon." Burt put his hand on Kurt's shoulder. "Let's see if we can't find your dad."

There really wasn't much they could do to find the man. He didn't have a cellphone and the only place Kurt knew to call was a bar outside of town that he knew his father went to. Kurt wound up going home with Burt so he wouldn't be left at the house alone.

Carole fussed over him as soon as he came through the door, though Finn just shuffled his feet on the carpet and looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but there.

"Sorry about your mom," he mumbled at his feet.

"Thanks," Kurt muttered back. The two of them rarely said more than two words to each other, even at school. It was no wonder Finn didn't know what to say to him.

Kurt couldn't sleep that night. He tossed and turned until about six in the morning. The sound of coffee brewing was a quiet hush in the stillness upstairs. Kurt followed the smell to the kitchen, where Carole was leaning against the counter with an empty mug in one hand.

She smiled when she caught sight of him and gestured at him to come closer. "You want some coffee?"

Kurt hesitated before entering the room. "Sure," he said, sitting at the kitchen table to wait.

They sat together, drinking their coffee. Carole kept giving him these looks, like she wanted to say something, until he finally set his cup down and asked, "What?"

"We're worried about you," Carole said, setting her own cup in front of her. She reached across the table to touch Kurt's hand but he slid it smoothly out of reach. "You just don't seem very happy."

Kurt's mouth dropped open. "My mom's in the _hospital."_

"I know. I know, sweetie. I meant that you haven't seemed very happy these past few months. And now, with your mom..." She sighed and picked her coffee cup back up. "Is there anything we can do for you?"

"No..."

"Finn says didn't go to the after party for Glee Club."

Kurt fiddled with the placemat on the table, getting restless. "I was tired."

"Mmm." After a few moments of silence, she asked, "How are things at home?"

"My mom's-"

"In the hospital, I know. How are things with your dad?"

Kurt froze, staring at the tabletop. "Fine." He couldn't say it, not to her, not to Burt, not to anyone. Shame and fear paralyzed him from saying the words he needed to.

"You'll tell someone if anything happens, won't you?"

He nodded his head, aware of Carole's eyes on him.

"Well." She stood, cup still in hand, and skirted the table to put a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "We'll be praying for your mom."

Kurt's head jerked up. "No."

She pulled back, startled. "No, what, sweetie?"

He stood from the table but left his cup behind. "You don't have to do that. We don't believe in God."

Carole climbed back into bed with Burt, who stirred at the dip her body made as she laid down next to him.

"What's going on?" he grumbled.

"Do you know Kurt doesn't believe in God?" she said as she wrapped her arms around him.

"Yeah. He never really got into the whole religion thing."

"That doesn't bother you?"

Burt sat up in and looked at her, his eyebrows drawn down. "Is this going to be a problem?"

"Of course not. It just worries me. He didn't even want me to pray for her."

Burt flopped back onto the bed and turned back on his side. "Well, a strong kid. If he wants people pray, he'll ask."

Carole draped her arm back around him and pressed her forehead against his back. It was sad, she thought. Kurt was such a quiet, closed off boy. He probably wouldn't ask for help, even if he needed it. That house couldn't be good for him. Maybe they could see about him staying at their place for good.

x

Kurt didn't come stay with them, though, insisting that he stay closer to where the hospital was. It was just a thirty minute's walk away. He could handle the way his dad hit him, touched him, made him do things, but it wasn't like he was being raped. He could handle it.

He liked to sit with his mother, when she wasn't in too much pain, and go over the plans for when she was gone.

"Are you planning a wedding or a funeral?" She asked with a chuckle as she took in the book he was using to plan things.

Kurt shrugged uncomfortably. "They didn't really have books for, y'know, funerals."

"Where are you getting the money for this?"

Kurt's eyes flickered to Burt, who stood near the end of her bed. Charlie shook her head.

"Burt, you can't-"

"We're not burying you in a pine box, Charlene," Burt said, giving her a stern look.

"But to go through so much trouble..." She winced at a sudden pain.

"Mom?" Kurt shut the book in his hands and stood, watching her with a worried look on his face as she grabbed for the button that would pump more pain medication into her system.

The medicine took hold of her quickly but she managed to smile at Kurt and touch his hair before her eyes fell shut. Kurt fussed over her, adjusting her blanket, making sure the glass by her bed had water in it, until Burt finally managed to pull him away.

"She won't be here much longer, will she?" Kurt asked once in the truck.

Burt could have lied, said she'd be with them for awhile yet, but Kurt never was one for accepting empty platitudes.

"No," he said instead, keeping it simple and true.

Kurt cried some and let Burt pull him close, but it didn't last long. Soon he was pulling away and wiping at his face as if he'd never broken down. When he got home, his dad was passed out on the couch, a row of beer bottles lined up on the coffee table and a wrestling match playing on the TV. Kurt left it on, letting the loud, muscular guy's rant cover up any noises he made on the way to his own room.

If his father just slept for a little bit longer, at least until morning, then Kurt was safe. He curled up in his bed but couldn't sleep, too busy listening too the snores coming from the living room, dreading each pause between them. Chuck couldn't sleep forever.

Kurt closed his eyes and tried not to think about it.


	4. Chapter 4

Charlene Rose Hummel died in the middle of summer and was buried on a hot, windless day. The sun beat down on the small knot of mourners clustered around the grave site. Their clothes clung to their bodies from the sweat running down their necks and staining the fabric of their dark funerary outfits. There had been a small service at the mortuary but no priest or reverend oversaw it. Instead, the Glee Club sang a few songs while a handful of neighbors and friends spoke.

Burt stood beside Kurt when his mother was lowered to the ground but couldn't help his gaze from wandering over to where his brother swayed drunkenly on his feet. He could see in his mind's eye the boy he'd grown up with, the boy who played hide and seek with him and helped him with his homework and all the other things siblings did growing up together.

Kurt was nothing like him; never had been. Chuck liked dirt and mud and monster trucks whereas Kurt had tea parties (when at Burt's), wore bowties (when at Burt's), and sung showtunes at the top of his lungs (when at Burt's).

Even now, the difference was startling. Chuck had been an emotional kid. He would've been bawling by now, had their mother died when they were this age. Kurt just stared with reddened eyes, occasionally sniffling, but never crying.

"C'mon, honey," Carole said to him when it was all done, linking his arm through hers and tugging him gently away. He glanced back only once, then turned away, his head held high and his stride long and steady.

The cemetery slowly emptied until Chuck was left to sway in front of the grave alone.

Carole woke up sometime later that night. There was something, some sound, that sounded out of place in their little home. It sounded like crying.

She pulled on a robe and ventured out to the living room, then to the kitchen, where Kurt sat. She could see his shoulders shaking even in the low light. He stilled when she came forward to press a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm fine," he whispered, wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his robe.

Carole shook her head. "No, you're not."

When he finally broke, his chest heaving and low sobs ripping from his throat, she pulled him to her and let him cry on her shoulder, thick, hot tears that soaked through her thin t-shirt and into her skin like ink.

x

A few days later, Kurt flung open the closet door and started to shove Finn's collection of ill-conceived puffy vests to one side. Really, did the boy own anything else?

"What are you doing?" Finn asked. He sat up in bed and squinted at the light streaming in from the tiny basement window.

"I need some space, Finn."

"Dude..." Finn peered at the box by Kurt's feet. "Aren't those your clothes from last year?"

"Yes. Why?"

"How're you gonna wear those? You've grown, like, four inches since I moved in."

Kurt paused and looked down at himself. It was true. He no longer looked like an eleven year old milkmaid. Which meant...

"Thanks for coming with me," Kurt said to Mercedes as they entered the mall's double doors.

Mercedes chuckled lightly. "How could I say no to a shopping trip?"

They glanced at each other shyly. This was a new step in their friendship and neither was sure how to proceed. Before, they'd just exchange a few words, sometimes sit together at lunch, but Kurt didn't know how to open up. It was like something inside him was broken. He got the feeling that she'd tried, but most of the time he was just lost in his own head and happy to be there.

This shopping trip would be good, both for his friendship and for himself. Being cooped up inside with just the soon to be Hudson-Hummel family for company was driving him crazy. Everyone kept giving him pitying looks that made him want to crawl under the table and die.

_Just like your mother._ He shoved that thought ruthlessly away.

Mercedes wasn't like that. She asked how he was when he called, then dropped the subject, seeming to sense that he needed a distraction. She didn't say a word when he browsed through the women's section looking at sweaters and graphic tees and waited patiently as he tried on different outfits.

In the dressing room, he paused, turning this way and that in front of the mirror. There was a large bruise on his lower back, surrounded by smaller, fading marks of green and yellow. The shirt he wore now could ride up and expose all that. Not good.

"Hey," Mercedes protested when he emerged in just the jeans and his old top. "Where's the shirt? I want to the see the whole Kurt Hummel effect."

Kurt smiled at her. "Too small."

"Please, the shirt you have on now is like a tent. I bet the other one fit just fine."

It certainly did. And he looked fabulous in it. But he wasn't about to tell her that.

"C'mon." After a moment's hesitation, he looped his arm through hers. "There's a new CD I'm just dying to get."

Mercedes giggled. "Boy, your uncle is going to have a fit when he sees that credit card bill."

He and Mercedes had totally different tastes when it came to music, so Kurt found himself on the opposite side of the store in search of a new Broadway soundtrack to add to his collection. He stopped midway down the aisle, though, to stare open mouthed at the boy flailing around to the beat of whatever music he had blasting through the headphone on top of his curly head.

His dancing was just...spastic. When he looked up and caught sight of Kurt staring at him, he grinned, nodded what could be interpreted as 'hey', then went back to back to bopping his head along with the music.

'Oh my god,' Kurt mouthed, then slowly started to back away. He'd heard you shouldn't make any sudden moves around obviously crazy people.

"What'd you get?" Mercedes asked when they met up at the exit.

Kurt could have slapped himself for getting distracted. "They didn't have it," he lied. "Maybe we can try another store."

"Sure." They linked arms again and started out but didn't get more than three feet before Kurt got jerked away by one arm and spun around.

"Dad," he gasped at the person looming over him. "What are you doing here?"

Chuck glared down at him. "Some kid told you went to the mall."

Finn, Kurt thought grimly.

"Is there a problem?" Mercedes asked. She lay a hand on Kurt's arm.

"Problem? The problem is that his mom's been dead less than a week and he's out here celebrating."

"I'm not-"

Chuck's grip on Kurt's arm tightened. "We're going home."

Mercedes glanced between the two of them then suddenly launched herself at Kurt, hugging him fiercely.

"If you need anything, you call me," she whispered into his ear.

He managed to give her a quick nod before he was pulled away, nearly tripping over himself to keep up with his father's long strides.

The bags in his arms were ripped away in the parking lot and tossed aside. He didn't even have time to pick them up off the ground before he was pushed into the passenger seat of the truck.

"This right here is why your mother let herself go. An ungrateful kid like you...she knew you didn't love her."

Kurt huddled in his seat, trying to tune out his dad's words. He loved his mother. He'd just wanted to get away for a little while.

Chuck glanced over at him and frowned at the lack of response. Usually, there were at least some tears at this point. "Maybe we could have afforded a doctor if it weren't for you."

"Maybe if you'd gotten a job, we could have afforded a doctor," Kurt muttered.

The truck stopped so suddenly the tires squealed and he was thrown forward against the dashboard. He waited, heart thudding, for what came next.

There was a beat of silence, then the truck started to move again. Kurt snuck a peek at his father but Chuck's eyes were fixed forward, though his hands squeezed the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white.

x

Carole dropped Kurt off at the mall at noon. She wasn't too worried when he didn't call at two like they agreed. He was a teenager hanging out with his friends. It wasn't too surprising he didn't want to come home yet. By three, she started to get antsy. Kurt wasn't answering his phone. He might be a teenager, but he was a responsible teenager. Adult-like, really.

At four, she called Burt.

Finn looked up from his video game when he heard her say Kurt's name. "His dad probably picked him up."

"What?"

"Yeah. He called a while ago and asked where Kurt was."

Carole nearly dropped the phone. "Finn! Why didn't you tell me about this earlier?"

"Uh...I didn't think it was that big a deal. It was just Kurt's dad."

Carole took a deep breath and prayed for patience. "Did he say he was going to go pick Kurt up?"

"No. He just asked where he was. And then he said some stuff."

"Like what?"

Finn blushed. "I can't say it in front of you. You're my mom."

She turned back to her phone. "I'm worried, Burt. What if something happened?"

Finn paused the game to stare up at her, looking as if he finally realized that something was wrong.

x

Burt left the shop early and kept his foot on the gas pedal as he drove into town. Carole was headed towards the mall in search of Kurt and his friend Mercedes while Finn got in contact with the other kids from Glee Club.

A feeling of unease had settled over him the moment Carole called him about Kurt. The boy loved to shop, no doubt about it, but he would never make any of them worry over a sales rack.

The house was quiet and there was no movements at any of the windows when he pulled into the driveway. Usually, except this past year, Kurt would be out the door before he'd even made it to the door, but either he wasn't home or, God forbid, there'd been an accident and he was too hurt to get to the door.

_Maybe he's just sleeping,_ Burt thought. But that couldn't be right. It was only five o'clock.

The door swung open when he touched the knob, making a rusty, creaking sound like a horror movie sound effect.

"Kurt," Burt called out when he stepped over the threshold. "Kurt, you home?"

Nothing. If their had been intruders here, they were long gone. Unless they were hiding. Burt moved carefully forward, his muscles tense with anticipation.

One of the chairs in the kitchen lay on its back, sitting a good foot from the table, and a spray of small red dots stained the tile next to it. Burt quickened his steps but paused when he crossed back into the living room and rounded the couch. A darker stain, larger than the one in the kitchen, had soaked the carpet. Kurt's crushed cellphone sat beside it.

Breaking into a run, Burt followed the bloodstains down the hall.

He saw a pair of boot clad feet sticking out of one of the bedroom doorways first. A closer look revealed Kurt half in, half out of his room, crumpled up like a crushed bird and surrounded by blood. Burt grabbed a blanket off the bed, but there was so much, he couldn't decide where to press the fabric, what to put pressure on. The only thing he could tell for sure was that Kurt's face was bruised almost beyond recognition. It would be a miracle if he could open his eyes come morning. If he would be alive come morning.

Kurt was alive, though. Burt sat with him while waiting for the ambulance to come, listening to the boy's light, ragged breathing. The pauses between were terrifying. Burt found himself holding his own breath until Kurt released another gasp of air.

The wailing of the ambulance and its bright, flashing lights were a godsend. Saying a quick prayer of thanks, Burt carefully placed a hand on Kurt shoulder. "Hang on," he whispered. "Hang on."

He pulled his hand away, afraid of causing more harm to the battered body beside him.

The EMTs barely blinked at the sight before them, just went about their job with a professional detachment that was only broken for a moment by one of the men's briefly muttered curse as they loaded the stretcher into the ambulance.

Burt rode with them but had to keep out of the way as they worked. He hoped Kurt was too deep under to feel anything. It would have been frightening, he imagined, for the world to be nothing but pain and noise.

Once at the hospital, Kurt was whisked away, leaving Burt to stand in the parking lot with a brain stuck on autopilot. He pulled out his phone and called Carole.

"Oh, thank God," Carole said. "You found him?"

"I'm at the hospital."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Her voice was small and fearful when she finally spoke. "Is Kurt all right?"

Burt sighed. "No. He's not."

"Hang on. I'm on my way."

When they hung up, he took a deep, shuddering breath and tilted his head back to look up at the sky. It was such a nice day out. The sun was starting its fall back into the horizon, and it would be dark soon, an atmosphere more fitting to his grim mood.

The inside of the hospital was a bright contrast to the world outside, all fluorescent lighting and square, clinical corners. Burt settled into one of the plastic chairs to wait.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty much hand waving the medical stuff, as I don't really know how long it would actually take to recover from injuries like Kurt's.

Kurt's injuries added up to: three stab wounds, a broken arm, two cracked ribs, multiple and extensive bruising, and a possible concussion. They had to wait and see on that last one.

"It's a miracle he's even alive," Carole breathed out when the doctor told them the news.

"Is he gonna make it?" Burt asked.

The doctor hesitated. "He's not out of the woods yet but...we're very optimistic about his chances. You should also know that we found evidence of rape."

Finn, who had been sitting there in a state of shocked silence, finally looked up, confusion written on his face. "Guys can't get raped."

"Hush," Carole said eyes locked on the doctor as she ran a hand up and down her son's arm.

Burt cleared his throat. "But he'll be okay?"

"We're very-"

"Optimistic. You said that already."

The doctor smiled at them, gave his apologies, and walked away. The two officers who had been hovering nearby took it as their cue to step in.

The thought had never even occurred to Burt, would never have occurred to him, to suspect his brother in all of this until Finn mentioned the phone call.

Carole looked over at Burt. "I found Mercedes at the mall just before you called me. She said that's who Kurt left with. His dad."

"Did she say what he was like, how he was acting?" the female officer asked. Her nametag read Johnston.

"He seemed angry that Kurt was out with his friend."

"It's my fault," Finn said in a small voice. "I told him where Kurt was."

"Oh, sweetie, no," Carole said. "You couldn't have known."

The police asked more questions, but there wasn't much information they could give them, except about Kurt's home life.

"We've spoken to one of the doctors," Howe, the other police officer, said. "Some of the bruising on Kurt's body, especially on his back, appears to have been caused before the attack."

"You mean, he's been hit before?" Burt asked.

When the man nodded in response, Burt stood and started pacing. Why didn't Kurt tell him? His mom was dead now, so why would he even want to go back to someone who hit him?

A new thought stopped him cold. The fact that Kurt was being beaten was shocking enough, but the rape brought whole new implications to life. If something like that happened today, did that mean it had been happening all along?

_Oh, Kurt._ Burt could have protected him if he'd known, kept him safe. He felt like such a failure for not noticing sooner. Chuck had better hope the police found him before he did. Brother or not, Burt was going to kill him.

They couldn't get much out of Kurt when he was finally up for talking. The most he did was nod or shake his head at their pointed questions while his hands clutched at his blanket. His eyes, open to mere slits, stayed fixed on his lap and by the end tears leaked from them onto the covers.

Yes, it had been his father. Yes, he'd been hit before. No, he'd never been raped but...

"Did your mom know?" Burt asked, leaning forward and giving Kurt's hand a gentle squeeze.

Kurt stiffened and said nothing. She knew.

Burt felt sick, conflicted. He shouldn't hold a grudge against a dead woman but, damn it, she knew and did nothing. Her being sick was no excuse, it had been going on for years. Johnston had to ask narrowed down yes or no questions but eventually pinpointed age six at how old Kurt was when all of this started, eight when it turned sexual. Charlene hadn't been sick then. And she'd _known._

Afterwards, they let Kurt sleep again, let the drugs in his systems pull him back into unconsciousness.

"Can you find him?" Burt asked the officers.

"He's got a head start on us," Howe said, "but he'll leave a trail. It's only a matter of time before we catch him."

x

"What happened?" Mercedes exclaimed as she plopped into the seat next to Finn, who grimaced and looked away. Her eyes narrowed at him. "What did you do?"

"Kurt was attacked." Carole sat on Finn's other side, still rubbing a hand over his arm.

"Is he going to be okay?"

"We hope so."

Mercedes sniffed. "What kind of person would hurt Kurt? He's a nice guy."

Carole gripped Finn's arm tighter in warning. None of this needed to get out. "The police are taking care of it."

Mercedes whipped out her phone and started texting, no doubt letting the other Glee kids know what was going on. Some, like Puck, Santana, and Tina, showed up later, but some of the parents wouldn't let their kids go so late on a weekday, even if it was summer.

They gathered together while they waited, talking quietly among themselves. Carole kept a close eye on Puck. He was a volatile boy. The doctors said the wrong thing and he'd be lighting the place on fire. If he would only harness all that anger and energy into something good.

x

Kurt's hospital stay was a revolving door of teenage visitors, plus Burt and Carole. Mercedes asked, once, where Kurt's dad was.

"Away on business," Burt told her. They were still busy tracking the man. He'd stolen the card Burt had lent Kurt and used it the first few days, withdrawing cash before dumping it outside a gas station.

One day, when it was just the two of them, Kurt looked at Burt and said, "I'm gay."

Burt sighed. "I know."

They fell back into a comfortable silence.

Sitting in that hospital bed was the longest wait Kurt had ever endured. He hurt, was bored, and had new crappy memories he just wanted to forget. His friends came by every day to try to cheer him up and help keep him occupied but there were only so many board games and rounds of I Spy (that was Brittany's idea and grew old fast, though he hadn't the heart to tell her) a guy could take before wanting to cut somebody.

By the time he was released from the hospital and sent home to Burt's house, everyone else was headed back to school. Kurt still wasn't well enough to go. He spent most of the days on the couch, watching TV or listening to music until he dozed off.

He slept a lot. It helped pass the time, though worried Burt and Carole. Depression was mentioned once or twice.

"I'm not depressed," Kurt yelled towards the kitchen where he could here them talking. He was just extremely bored.

Before leaving the hospital, he'd decided to stop living a lie and start being who he really was. Maybe it was a big 'screw you' towards his dad. Whatever. That was done now. He was a boy who loved fashion, Broadway musicals, and other boys. If other people didn't like it, that was just too bad.

Burt was relieved to see the fire return to Kurt's eyes. He'd known that spark was there, hidden under the layers of skittishness and uncertainty. Too bad it took something like this to bring it out again.

Everyone in the house fussed over Kurt while they were home, though Finn might have went overboard at times to ease his sense of guilt.

A whole month of school passed before Kurt was able to go back. By then, Glee Club had grown by two members, another jock by the name of Sam and a curly-haired boy named Blaine, who had some kind of addiction to furniture hopping. Brad was not amused.

It hadn't gotten around school yet that Kurt was gay, though he'd come out to the Glee kids while in the hospital. Finn had turned a funny shade of red and whispered in a strangled voice, "The whole time?"

Kurt just rolled his eyes. "Yes, Finn. Always."

Finn acted funny around him for about a week, until Puck slapped him upside the head for being an idiot and Santana threatened his manhood if he didn't 'get on the gay train.'

Kurt didn't miss the small nod she sent his way or the fear flashing across her face before she settled back into Lima Heights Adjacent mode. He glanced at Brittany, then back to Santana. There'd been rumors about the two of them, mostly confirmed by the two girls, but they always brushed it off as something they did to get boys.

Maybe Kurt wasn't as alone as he thought. There could be a kids all over the school who were gay that no one knew about. If he could pass, so could anyone else.

He felt nervous walking into the school, even if he had his own person contingent of Glee security guys flanking him like the Secret Service as he walked. The guys flexed their muscles and made angry faces at anyone who even looked at Kurt funny.

The only thing people knew about what happened was that he'd been attacked at home while his father was away. No one questioned the fact that his father was still gone. Kurt managed to deflect any questions about the man. It was scary how easily his classmates and friends could be distracted. Only the teachers knew and they looked at him with sympathy in their eyes, even crusty old Mr. Simmons, who had never liked him, somehow sensing he was gay before he'd even come out.

The new boys were nice. Sam had big lips with an easy smile to go with them and Kurt was sure he dyed his hair. It was possible he was gay. Kurt filed away the information for later interrogation purposes. Sam could be one of those people who were passing.

The other new boy made Kurt stop and stare with his mouth hanging open in an unsightly manner. He snapped it shut and walked slowly toward his seat.

As he passed, the guy straightened up with a smile of recognition on his face. Kurt ignored him, sitting in the chair Mercedes had claimed for him, her purse sitting in his place until he reached her.

Mr. Schu started talking but Kurt's eyes wandered. The new kid kept looking at him, glancing behind him with that same grin lighting up his face. Every time, Kurt snapped his eyes back to the front of the room with an indignant sniff.

"Why does that boy keep staring at you?" Mercedes whispered.

Kurt shook his head. He and Blaine had met, however briefly, on the day that _that_ happened, on a day better left unspoken about.

After class ended, Blaine stood and headed towards him, but Kurt made a beeline for the door, leaving Mercedes in the dust. She and Tina called out his name, but he ignored them and kept going. His heart was pounding unpleasantly in his chest and sweat was forming on his brow.

Stupid Blaine. Why did he have to be there? The day was going perfectly fine until he popped up. It was irrational, Kurt knew, to blame him for anything. He'd just been a boy in a record store. It had been his father who...who...

"Kurt?" Tina knocked on the door of the bathroom stall Kurt had locked himself into, her voice full of worry.

"I'm fine," he gasped out from his spot on the floor. He reached out to flush the toilet with a shaky hand and watched his lunch disappear in a swirl of water.

"I can't believe Burt bought you a car," Finn said as they headed out to the parking lot after school. "How come you get a car and I don't?"

Kurt shot him a wry look. "Probably because I haven't hit any civil servants."

Finn huffed. "Just the one."

Kurt shook his head. The two of them were walking across the school's parking lot towards Kurt's new car. It was a big hunk of metal, far more than Kurt needed, but he couldn't say no to his uncle.

Burt had pressed the keys into his hands the morning after he'd gotten his driver's license and said, "I don't want you walkin' to school." He didn't have to say why. They both knew Kurt's dad was still out there.

Kurt froze when he heard his name ring out across the lot as Blaine jogged over to them. He seriously considered just getting in the car and driving away before the guy reached them but manners prevailed over his strong urge to flee.

"Hey," Blaine said. He was winded from the run, making his voice rough and breathy. "We didn't get to meet earlier." He held out a hand. "I'm Blaine."

Kurt stared at him, then slowly offered his own hand in turn, letting it be engulfed in Blaine's. His fingers were rougher than Kurt's, calloused like a muscian's. Kurt pulled away and gripped the handle of his messenger bag.

"Kurt," he said when he realized that both Blaine and Finn were looking at him, waiting for his response.

Blaine smiled at him. "I was wondering if you'd like to get some coffee or something. I hear the Lima Bean's pretty good."

Finn suddenly coughed, causing the other two to jump, startled.

"Sorry," he muttered into his hand.

Kurt took the interruption as his opportunity to get the hell out of there.

"I can't," he said to Blaine. "Maybe some other time." He hurried to the driver's side door, snapping, "Get in the car, Finn," as he rounded the hood of the car, leaving Blaine standing there.

"What was that about?" Finn asked once they were on the road.

"Nothing. Everything's fine."

"He's gay, you know."

The car swerved slightly into the other lane as Kurt's hands jerked on the wheel. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I think he likes you. Rachel says he's been asking about you."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Right. He's gay, that must be it."

"Dude, I'm just saying-"

"Finn! I need to concentrate."

Finn fell silent, though he kept shooting Kurt worried looks the whole way home.


	6. Chapter 6

Blaine watched the Navigator pull out of the lot, then trudged to his own car. It was a classic, an old Cadillac he and his father had rebuilt during what he liked to call-in his own head, of course-Parental Straight Camp.

Being the only openly gay kid at McKinley sucked. The jocks made him feel especially welcomed by shoving him into lockers and throwing Slushies at him every day. He hoped he and Kurt could become friends, stick together for each other's sake. Facing bullies was a lot harder when you had to do it alone.

He'd heard about what happened, how Kurt had spent the past few months recuperating from an attack in his own home. A lot of theories were being bounced around the school about it, the most popular being that it was a break-in gone wrong. Whatever happened, though, Blaine understood what Kurt was going through more than anyone. He knew what it was like to be left writhing in pain at someone else's hands.

If he had to be honest with himself, this was about more than just making friends and forming alliances. That one glimpse of the other boy at the store that day had him intrigued. He wanted to know more about him, about what went on behind those strange looking eyes. But Kurt was making that rather difficult. Every time Blaine tried to approach him, he ran the other way.

"Just give him time," Tina said when he finally gave in, dug up her number, and called her after dinner. "He's been really jumpy since he came back. He won't even go to the mall with me and Mercedes anymore, which sucks. Mike really liked the outfits he picked out for me."

"I tried to get him to join me at the Lima Bean but he blew me off. Do you think he'd like Breadsticks better?"

Tina gasped. "You like him!"

"Well, not like _that_ ," Blaine spluttered. "I just thought we could be friends. Friends!"

Tina giggled. "Uh huh."

She said something else but her mouth was too far away from the phone for Blaine to hear her. He shot up when he heard another girl's voice answer in the background.

"Who was that?"

"Okay, listen up," came Mercedes strident tones. "My boy's fragile right now, so if you hurt him, I will cut you with Santana's nail file-and you know that sucker's sharp."

"I'm not-"

"Breadsticks. Saturday at seven. Be there."

Blame was left staring at his phone. He groaned and fell back against the pillows on his bed. Great. Knowing his luck, the whole Glee Club would be there to watch him make a fool of himself.

x

The entire Glee Club really did show up, up to and including Mr. Schue. Blaine shot an incredulous look Mercedes and Tina's way but it softened when he saw Kurt nestled between them, looking more relaxed than Blaine had seen him yet. He hadn't noticed Blaine come in, so Blaine was free to look all he wanted. At least, until a hand landed on his shoulder and spun him around.

He had to crane his neck up to look a glaring Finn full in the face. "Hey," he said, trying to keep his voice from trembling nervously. "What's up, Finn?"

"Sorry, but I gotta know, man. What are you up to with Kurt?"

Behind and slightly to the right of him, Santana ran a long, flat piece of metal across her fingernails with fake nonchalance.

"You're not going to shank me, are you?" Blaine asked.

Finn frowned at him. "What?"

"Nothing. Look, Finn...Santana...I just thought it'd be nice to make a friend who was, you know, like me."

Santana's smirk flickered out of place before settling into her regular evil grin as she took a step closer. "Here's the deal, Brylcreem. Kurt's had a crappy time of it the last few months. If you wanna put your grubby gay paws all over him, be my guest-"

"Hey!" That was from Finn.

"But if you make him cry," she stepped into Blaine's space and fiddled with the collar of his sweater. "If you make him cry, you'll have to deal with me." She moved away with a sweet smile on her face. "We don't want that, now do we?"

"No, ma'am." Blaine gulped. "I have absolutely no intention of making Kurt cry."

"Good," Finn said. "I'm glad I got that settled."

Rolling her eyes, Santana turned away and headed towards the table that Brittany and Puck sat at. Finn gave him an awkward pat on the shoulder before joining them.

"Don't worry about her." Quinn steered him to the table she, Mr. Schue and Sam were sitting at. "I think it's sweet. Kurt could do with more friends."

Blaine glanced behind them. Kurt was still sitting with Tina and Mercedes, Mike sitting opposite them. They talked quietly together. Every so often, Kurt would smile or laugh quietly or even arch an eyebrow at something that clearly displeased him.

Blaine wondered what they were talking about but didn't go over to find out. He didn't want to be too pushy and chase Kurt off before they even got to know each other. That wasn't part of the plan at all.

Rachel came was late coming in, talking about divas and grand entrances. She was mostly ignored but Blaine smiled and patted the spot next to him. Quinn gave an irritated huff that he pretended not to hear. He liked Rachel. She was a sweet girl who loved the spotlight as much as he did...okay, maybe just a tad more than he did. But he liked that about her, too, how focused she was on winning, even if they did fight over solos every other day.

Sam claimed it was like watching an epic disaster movie, one where everything starts out all nice and happy. Rachel and Blaine discuss the chosen song like the civilized people that they were supposed to be and then-Bam!-something sets them off towards chaos and doom.

Which is probably why the blonde-headed jock winced when Rachel sat down and said, "I've got the perfect song for Sectionals."

x

"He's like a big, goofy Labrador, isn't he?" Kurt said, watching as Blaine danced on the tabletop a couple of tables over. He danced better than Finn, but then, everybody danced better than Finn.

Mercedes nudged him in the side. "Why don't you go talk to him? I bet you guys'll get along great."

Kurt squirmed in his seat, little tendrils of fear flickering inside at the thought. "Please, Mercedes. He's in the middle of a very moving rendition of...Get the Party Started."

Except then he wasn't. One of the Breadsticks waitress put an end to the singing and dancing, making sure her tip was no longer sticking out of the top of Brittany's shirt before she stalked away.

_Oh no,_ Kurt thought as Blaine caught his eye and smiled. Kurt hissed at his two friends as they waved him over.

"Hi," Blaine chirped. He sat next to Mike, across from where Kurt sat. The way he looked directly at him left no doubt who his greeting was meant for. "So..." Blaine looked the girls. "Anybody read the new Vogue?"

Mercedes shrugged her shoulders and glanced at Kurt. Tina was too wrapped up in playing footsie with her boyfriend to even realize Blaine had spoken.

Kurt opened his mouth automatically then snapped it shut. No. He was not going to be lured into a conversation by the mere mention of the most fabulous magazine ever.

But Blaine kept talking. "...don't know why they're trying to make her look so edgy," he was saying. "Beside, not one of those covers can top-"

"Marion Cotillard," Kurt said along with Blaine before he could stop himself.

Blaine's expression brightened. "Right?"

Oh, to hell with it. Talking with Blaine still felt weird and scary but the guy knew about fashion, which didn't explain why he was wearing that cardigan with those jeans, but still...fashion. Kurt couldn't help himself.

Sometime in the middle of the discussion of various fashion houses, Mercedes, Tina, and Mike slipped away, unnoticed by either boy. Finn kept an eye on them from his own table, eyes narrowing when Blaine's hand rested briefly on Kurt's as they leaned their heads closer together, clearly excited about whatever girly gay thing they were busy talking about.

"Relax," Puck said. "I doubt the little guy's just gonna jump Kurt in the middle of Breadsticks."

"Maybe after," Santana added.

"Really?" Finn's frown deepened. "I'd better go over there."

"Whoa, Frankenteen." Santana held up a hand to stop him from getting up. "Chill. I got this."

Turning around, she stuck two fingers in her mouth and let out a long whistle. When the boys turned around to look at her, she made a slashing motion with one finger at her neck. Blaine's eyes widened.

"What's she doing?" they could hear Kurt ask.

Santana smirked at Finn. "See? All taken care of."

x

Their friendship started out slowly, with meetings at the Lima Bean before school and sitting next to each other in Glee, but by the end of the next month, they were attached at the hip, more than Kurt and Mercedes ever were.

Sometimes Kurt found that just being around his new friend brought back awful memories and phantom pains, and he couldn't do anything but avoid the other boy until the panic finally subsided. But he couldn't stay away-they were like magnets, drawn together.

Blaine, for his part, simply waited patiently until Kurt was ready, until the day that they sat on the steps together and Kurt whispered, "That first day I saw you...it was _that_ day."

Blaine sighed and reached over to rub Kurt's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said. "I guess that explains why you won't even look at me sometimes."

"I don't _want_ to feel that way, when it happens, but..."

"You just can't help it. Trust me, I understand what you went through."

Kurt stared at him, eyes wet with unshed tears. "How?"

"There was this dance..."

The expression on Kurt's face when Blaine stopped talking was hard to read. His lips were parted as if he wanted to speak but nothing came out, just a soft exhalation, a puff of air.

He looked so hurt and lost that Blaine couldn't help but lean in and press a gentle kiss to his forehead.

"Kurt, I-"

The door behind them burst open, and Mr. Shue and Miss Pillsbury tumbled out.

"Kurt." Mr. Schue stepped forward.

Kurt's eyes flickered between him and Miss Pillsbury. He stood at the stricken expressions on their faces. "What happened? What's wrong?"

Miss Pillsbury wrung her hands together and glanced at Mr. Schue, who said, "The hospital just called about your uncle."

"Why?" Kurt's voice was thin and reedy as he stared at them with wide eyes.

"He had a heart attack this morning," Mr. Schue said gently, watching Kurt as if he though the boy was going to faint.

Kurt didn't look well. His face went white at the mention of a heart attack and he plopped heavily back onto the stairs. "I have to see him."

Blaine took him by the arm and helped him back up. "C'mon. I'll drive."

"We should go with you," Miss Pillsbury said. "You shouldn't be alone right now."

"I won't be alone." Kurt slipped his hand into Blaine's without even thinking about it. "Blaine's coming with me."


	7. Chapter 7

Burt lay in a coma, unresponsive to anything around him. Kurt clung to his hand but couldn't get him to open his eyes, no matter how hard he pleaded.

Blaine felt a little awkward standing off to the side and watching them like an outsider. But he couldn't just leave Kurt there. Surely, Finn and his mom would be show up soon. They'd want to be alone, be a family together, he was sure.

"Do you want me to call your dad? Let him know what's happened?"

Kurt's whole body stiffened. "No."

"He'll want to come home for this."

"My father's not coming back."

Blaine stopped and studied Kurt's face. His words had gone flat the moment Blaine mentioned his father. There had to be more to that story than Kurt said. Blaine made a note to ask Finn about it later.

The next few weeks Blaine watched as Kurt tried to keep himself going, though it looked like he might collapse in tears at any moment. There wasn't any good news from the hospital, nothing with Burt having changed, and the Glee Club didn't help matters when the subject of God came up. The tension in the choir room ran high, especially as Coach Sylvester got religious songs banned from the school.

Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand when the majority of the other Glee kids looked at Kurt with hostile eyes over it. It took Mr. Schue to calm them down. Kurt did what he always did, held his head high and pretended it didn't bother him. Blaine could see the cracks under his pale, sickly skin and the exhaustion beneath his black-smudged eyes.

Everything came to a head on a Wednesday after school. Blaine was late to practice due to a teacher holding after class about a homework assignment-his first F ever!-so he didn't know what started the whole thing, but he walked through the door just in time to hear Kurt say, "He's not your father, Finn!"

"He's not yours, either," Finn shot back.

A strange look crossed Kurt's face and he turned, grabbed his bag, and bolted out the door, ignoring the Finn's babbled apologies. His shoulder bumped against Blaine's as he passed, but he didn't even notice, just plunged blindly onward.

"Kurt." Blaine hurried after him.

Will would enter the room a few minutes later to utter silence and get a lackluster performance from all his students except, as usual, Rachel, who tried to pretend that nothing was wrong.

Blaine, meanwhile, had to jog down the hallway to keep up with Kurt's long strides.

"Kurt, wait up. Are you just going to leave?"

Kurt whirled around to face him. "I don't believe in God, Blaine."

"Yeah, I got that."

"You're not going to try to...?"

"Convert you? No." Blaine grinned in an attempt to lighten the mood. "You're way too stubborn for that." He put a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "C'mon. You're going to the hospital, right?"

Kurt smiled softly and nodded. "I know it's earlier than usual but I don't think I can go back in there right now."

They stared at each other in a strange, not altogether uncomfortable silence, before Blaine cleared his throat and looked away, breaking the moment.

"C'mon. We can take my car today."

Whatever that was couldn't be good, Blaine thought. He and Kurt were just friends. Besides, he was in love with Jeremiah. If anything were to happen with anyone it would be with that guy.

x

All thoughts of Jeremiah were wiped from Blaine's mind, leaving him a shaken, love-stricken mess, when Kurt stood in front of the Glee Club and sang a Beatles song with so much emotion that every eye in the room was wet with tears by the time the last note fell from his lips.

Blaine kissed him after school that day, with rain beating down on the hood of the car and the heater keeping the cold October chill at bay. Kurt froze and almost seemed to lean into the kiss but then shoved Blaine away.

"You can't do that," Kurt said, out of breath His eyes were frightened and his lips trembled.

Crap. The timing, it was all wrong. He'd messed up his chance.

"Kurt." Blaine ran a hand over his face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-" He reached out to touch the other boy but Kurt flinched away.

"You can't do this to me," he repeated in that same hurt tone before opening the door and stumbling out into the rain.

Blaine watched him go with an aching heart. He didn't know how to fix this. Romance had never been his strong suit, as just demonstrated. There had to be some way to fix this.

Fumbling for his phone, he typed in his Warbler friend David in the hopes that he would be able to tell him what to do.

x

Kurt drove home, his mind racing. He heart was pounding in his chest and he had to clench his hands around the steering wheel to stop them from shaking. The kiss should have had him jumping up and down with joy. Instead, it'd left him feeling sick.

Blaine's lips had been warm and a little wet against his own, but as soon as he'd gotten over the initial pleasant shock of it, the memory of rougher lips took over and caused him to panic. God, Kurt was a terrible person. Blaine probably thought he hated him.

The first thing Kurt did when he stepped through the front door was collapse onto the couch in tears, clutching one of the pillows as he cried. Thankfully, no one else was at home to watch him unravel. Finn had practice and Carole was at work. He let himself go on until exhaustion pulled him into a fitful sleep.

He woke up sometime later to someone shaking him, their fingers digging into his upper arms. Gasping, he sat up and batted the hands away.

"Are you okay?" Carole asked. She hovered over him, gnawing at her bottom lip as she watched him carefully.

"Yeah," Kurt said, voice groggy from sleep. "Wha's wrong?"

"You were screaming."

He raised a hand to his head and found a thin sheen of sweat coating his forehead. He'd been dreaming about...about...his dad. His breath hitched as it came back in sharper detail and hit him hard, the memory of that night combined with Blaine's kiss, making him double over in pain, sobbing back in full force.

"Oh, sweetie." Carole pulled him into her arms and against her chest, where she stroked his hair and whispered soothing words into his ear.

Kurt's mother had smelled like Chanel No.5 when he was little, before his father stopped working completely and they could actually have nice things. He used to curl up in her arms and breath in the scent of it. Carole wore a very different perfume, but she was warm and soft to lean against, her voice lulling him back to sleep. This time he felt peaceful, wrapped up safe as he was in her arms.

When he looked completely under, she gently moved out from under him until he was laying on the couch, his head pillowed on one of the cushions with his feet hanging off the side. She removed his shoes and set them nearby, then covered him with a blanket.

"Is he going to be okay?" Finn asked from where he stood nervously by the couch.

"He'll be fine." Carole brushed Kurt's damp bangs away from his forehead. "Why don't you go set the table? I'll be right there."

She stayed near Kurt a few more moments, until the house phone rang, drawing her away. Someone from the hospital was on the other end. They talked about something or other that went totally past her. The only thing she could hear was the first few words spoken.

Burt was awake and asking for them.

x

At the hospital, Burt smiled at Kurt and squeezed his hands, just like Kurt had begged him to those first few days at the hospital. After he'd gotten his allotted time, he dropped onto a bench outside, limbs shaking from relief, and pulled out his cellphone.

Blaine appeared thirty minutes later. They sat in silence, looking out over the grounds while other visitors passed by.

Finally, Kurt said, "I'm sorry about earlier."

"No." Blaine turned to face him. "No, Kurt, God. I shouldn't have done that. I don't know what I was thinking."

Kurt kept his eyes trained on the ground. "You know about what happened, right? About why I missed so much school."

"Of course. Everybody was talking about it."

"I'm sure they were." He took a deep breath. "They don't know everything about it. There was...more."

Blaine grew still beside him. "What do you mean?"

Not once since It happened had Kurt actually said the words and now it was like pulling teeth to get them out. "I was raped," he said, all in a rush.

Blaine took a slow breath in, then reached out to take Kurt's hand tentatively in his own. He wished they were sitting in the choir room, where he could find the right words to make Kurt feel better. Words never failed him when he sang.

Instead, he said nothing.

x

The day before Burt got out of the hospital, Kurt bought a planner and gathered together all the materials he could on healthy eating. He'd already convinced Carole to throw out or give to the community food bank all the food not good for Burt's heart, much to Finn's dismay. Kurt pretended not to know that he had stashed away a bunch of snack foods in his room. None of it had better make it's way to Burt or Finn would have to face Kurt in full bitch mode, which was never a very pretty thing, for him or the person on the receiving end of it.

"Since when did Lima have homeless people?" Blaine asked when they met on the stairs before classes started.

"Hmm?" Kurt waved a hand dismissively, not bothering to look up from the notes he was writing in a notebook titled 'Burt's Meal Plan'. "That's just Patches."

Blaine raised an eyebrow. "Patches?"

"He's usually at the library."

They walked into the school together, being careful not to touch. The other members of New Directions had helped cut back on the bullying the two of them endured on a daily basis, but the jocks were still the same as ever, shoving people into lockers, tossing Slushies, and being their usual obnoxious selves. Having Blaine beside him helped. His mere presence gave Kurt the courage he needed to walk through the halls with his head held high, able to ignore the slurs thrown their way. Even Karofsky, the most handsy of the jocks, couldn't bother him with Blaine there to lift his spirits with just one smile.

They did link hands once passing through the choir room doors. It was safe there, though they weren't about to risk anything more. Kurt was sure the others were only so tolerant. Even Finn, for all his progress, would freak if he had to watch to boys lock lips, not to mention all the comments Puck and Santana would make. Well, maybe not Santana. She'd just make sexual comments that would make both boys blush.

"Ugh," Mercedes said as she came into the room after them. "I swear, did Patches get a new friend or something, 'cause he's freaking me out."

"What'd he do?" Kurt asked, looking up from his low-fat cook book.

"He just _stared_ at me. Made me freakin' uncomfortable." She plopped into the seat next to Kurt. "So, what're my guys up to?"

Kurt pushed his book towards her and stared going on about hummus, tofu, and calorie count until Mercedes's eyes started to glaze over. Blaine gave her an apologetic smile and looked back at Kurt, affection dancing in his eyes.

The room slowly filled up with other students. Their combined voices made a low chatter of noise that cut off abruptly. Kurt looked up at the sudden silence, following everyone's gaze to the front of the room where a man stood blocking the doorway.

Kurt's heart clenched in terror. "Dad."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a real rough chapter containing sexual abuse is coming up next.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, everybody! This chapter contains a heavy dose of sexual abuse and a suicide, so please keep the warnings in mind.

Blaine glanced between the two of them. "So, wait-that Patches guy is your dad?"

Kurt ignored him and stared at his father. The man had lost weight and was dressed in tattered looking clothing that could have rivaled the one homeless guy Lima had in uncleanliness.

"That's not Patches," Kurt said, reaching behind him to blindly grasp at Blaine's hand.

For once, Mr. Schue looked up from of his pit of oblivion and noticed something wasn't right. He stepped away from the whiteboard and towards the door. "Mr. Hummel. You shouldn't be here."

"I came to see my son." Chuck moved further into the room. Kurt squeezed Blaine's hand hard.

Mr. Schue planted his feet firmly in front of the doorway. "I'm calling the cops if you don't leave now."

The kids watched the exchanged with wide, bewildered eyes, some looking back to where Kurt stood, as if he could or would tell them what was going on. They knew about the attack, that much wasn't a secret. But that was all they knew. Everything was going to change the moment they caught sight of the weapon at his father's side.

It was a handgun, easy to conceal from prying eyes. There was a collective gasp when he raised it up into view.

"I'm here to see my son." When Mr. Schue back away, hands up, Chuck stepped into the room and jerked the gun a little to the side. "C'mere, boy."

Kurt took one step down but paused when Blaine grabbed him by the elbow.

"It was him, wasn't it?" Blaine asked. His eyebrows were drawn down, emphasizing the worry that radiated from his body.

Kurt patted his hand and smiled. "It's okay, Blaine."

"Now wait just a minute!" Mr. Schue started towards Chuck.

The gun went off with a bang and a chorus of screams, lodging a bullet into Schuester's leg. He fell to the ground, clutching at the wound, which was quickly spilling blood onto the tiled floor. Quinn and Puck moved as if to go to him but slowly sank back down into their seats when the gun pivoted in their direction.

Chuck talked over the pained noises coming from Mr. Schue's spot on the floor. "Kurt."

For a moment, everything and everyone seemed frozen, all eyes turned to the boy on the top riser, but then Blaine's fingers slowly uncurled from around Kurt's arm and he was free to drift down to where his father waited for him.

"What do you want?" Kurt asked. His voice sounded far away, everything around him surreal.

"You know what I want." The barrel of the gun dipped down towards the floor.

Kurt followed its progress until he was on the ground himself, on his knees staring up at his father's well-worn face.

"Just one more time," Chuck whispered, cupping Kurt's face in one large hand. "Just one more time before I go."

Kurt reached out and undid the button of the jeans in front of his face, pulling down the zipper next. The sound of it sliding open was quickly followed by a chair squealing against the floor as one of the other kids moved. Mr. Schuester lay silent somewhere behind him.

It was nothing, anyway. Kurt's mind was already blanking itself out as his hands moved to stroke and cajole Chuck to life. When there was a warm hardness in the palm of his hands, fingers twisted themselves in his hair, pulling him forward. He'd done this enough times to know what he was doing, to know how to finish quickly.

The cool touch of steel on the back of his neck, pressing firmly against his skin, barely registered. His eyes might have been open, but his mind was far away.

x

Blaine had never felt more of a coward than he did right then, just sitting there watching as his boyfriend was forced into an act of depravity by his own father's hands.

Puck had jumped up, his chair squealing against the floor, the second Kurt touched the button on his father's pants, but Quinn held him back by one arm, ever mindful of the gun, while everyone else looked away. Mercedes was crying softly. Brittany had her face buried in Santana's shoulder, Tina doing the same with Mike, and Finn stared at the scene before them while wide eyes, mouth agape.

On the floor, Mr. Schue had pulled off his sweater vest and tied it around his leg but was now passed out. Blaine hoped it was from the pain and not from too much blood loss.

A groan drew Blaine back to the front of the room and he watched with a sick fascination as Mr. Hummel drew the gun slowly up the back of Kurt's neck and back down again, his eyes half closed with pleasure. Blaine suddenly noticed what he hadn't before: the man's finger was on the trigger.

He rutted insistently into Kurt's mouth, making low, guttural sounds in the back of his throat, obviously close to finishing. Blaine leaned forward in his seat, uncertain what would put Kurt in even more danger, him running over there now or waiting until Mr. Hummel's hand clenched.

Somewhere outside, a siren sounded. The kids all looked up as one, glancing at each other. Mr. Hummel didn't notice or maybe didn't care, just kept up his rough thrusting. Kurt...Blaine didn't know if Kurt was aware of anything at all at this point. In a way, he hoped not.

A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. There were students looking in at the windows set in the choir room doors. Kurt would have been blocked from view of the right hand side by the bulk of his dad's body, but the other half had a full view of what was going on. No one came in. They must have seen the gun.

Blaine's worry about Chuck's hand on the trigger turned out to be prophetic...just not exactly how he thought it would be. The moment he reached climax, the gun moved away from Kurt's head (and Blaine let out a sigh of relief) to his own (the rest of New Directions let out a gasp), where his finger spasmed and tightened.

The gagging sound Kurt made as he choked was drowned out by the gun going off directly above him. Chuck's body jerked back and fell away as blood and brain matter splattered the first two rows of teenagers. A stunned silence followed the sounds, then chaos broke out, kids crying and talking over one another. Puck even jumped up from his seat to kick the downed man in the side with a booted foot.. Finn sat there stunned, unable to move.

Rachel's trained voice, always so controlled and melodious, was now only a high wail as she screamed as if she were being murdered. Blaine found he couldn't move from his seat, either. It was like everyone had forgotten Kurt was there in their horror and confusion, and the only voice louder than Rachel's was Kurt's when he finally straightened and took in the sight before him.

His mouth opened wide and a ear-splitting scream emerged from it a few seconds later.

Blaine was startled out of his seat by the sound. He rushed down the steps, shoving chairs out of his way as he went, until he was at Kurt's side, on his knees beside him. The wailing only stopped briefly, whenever Kurt took a pause in between to take short, choppy breaths.

"Shh, shh," Blaine tried, pressing a hand gently against Kurt's mouth in a panicked attempt to calm him down. It didn't work. He pulled Kurt to him and muffled the cries into his sweater.

Somewhere in all the chaos surrounding them, paramedics and police appeared. The EMTs went straight to Mr. Schuester, who was obviously the most-and only-injured person in the room. Charles Hummel didn't count. He was already dead.

Kurt was still screaming, his voice turning raw, and it took a shot in the arm with a long to needle to calm him down. His head dropped onto Blaine's shoulder and he lay there limply, like a living, breathing ragdoll. Blaine tightened his arms around Kurt's waist and hauled him in closer. Kurt's hands snaked around to the back of Blaine's sweater, where they clung to the fabric in a weak grip.

He could stay there as long as he wanted, forever if he needed to. Blaine wasn't letting him go.

x

The next few hours were a blur of voices and movement that Kurt simply ignored, his face buried in Blaine's shoulder. Carole was called in from work, and she took her kids home with her after the police and medical personnel cleared Kurt and Finn to go. Blaine came with them, helping to lay Kurt down and cover him with blankets. When he was done, he climbed into bed behind him and curled him arm around Kurt's waist, resting his forehead between the other boy's shoulder blades.

Carole opened the door to look in on them but, after meeting Blaine's eyes with her own sad, red-rimmed ones, softly closed the door and left them lying together in the poorly lit room. There was movement from upstairs and the sound of Carole and Finn walking around. Blaine kept his eyes open as he listened to it all. He felt like he should be exhausted from the day they'd all had, but no matter how many times he closed his eyes, he couldn't fall asleep. Instead, he kept his arm around Kurt, a hand at Kurt's heart to feel the steady, thumping beat beneath his palm.

Some time after they lay down, Kurt took a deep breath, his chest expanding under Blaine's hand.

"Kurt?" Blaine said, somewhat afraid of what might happen next. That awful screaming still rang in his ear-he didn't know if he could take it. Anymore and he himself might break down right along with Kurt.

But there was no screaming or crying, just soft inhales of breath as Kurt started to shift, started to come back to life after being trapped in a hazy fog of drugs. Kurt suddenly rolled over and blinked lazily at the boy next to him.

"Blaine?" His voice was hoarse from all that screaming and a little slurred, the effects of the sedative in his system still keeping his mind and body sluggish.

Blaine smiled at him. "Hey. Welcome back."

Kurt stared at him, confused, but then his eyes widened, the day coming back to him. His face crumpled even as Blaine reached out to run a hand down his arm. He clutched at Blaine like a lifeline as he cried. It wasn't the raw terror from earlier but something sadder, more broken.

Blaine once again pulled him closer, until their bodies were pressed up against each other. There was nothing sexual the way their bodies touched, how they could feel nearly every curve of skin. There was just the sadness and hurt of two friends clinging for what little comfort they could find.

Burt would find them both asleep, entwined together, when he returned from the hospital that night.


	9. Chapter 9

Principal Figgins stood nervously at the front of the choir room with his hands folded together. "Thank you for coming today," he said. "I know you have questions-"

"You're damn right. How did that psycho get into this school with a loaded gun, anyway? You telling me nobody noticed that?" The blond man who spoke had an arm around Brittany Pierce's shoulder. She huddled against his side like a young child.

"The police are looking into the matter as we speak."

From his place by the piano, Will cleared his throat. Figgins glanced at him, then stepped to one side.

"Ms. Pillsbury asked me to call you all here so that she could have a few words with everyone."

The guidance counselor looked even more nervous than Figgins had, wringing her hands in front of her pale blue sweater and her mouth twitching.

"Thank you all for coming," she began. "I know that this has been a horrible, _horrible_ thing to have gone through, but I wanted each of you to know that if there's anything you need to ask, anything you need to talk about, please come to my office."

"I have a question," Mercedes said, raising her hand. "Where's Kurt? His dad hasn't let us see him since it happened."

"That's a very good question. All I can say is that the Hummel family wishes to be left alone until Kurt feels better."

"Feels better?" Santana snapped. "How the hell's he supposed to feel better?" Her mother laid a hand on her arm to quiet her. The frown stayed on her face, though, and she crossed her arms across her chest.

"I didn't know Patches was Finn's uncle," Brittany suddenly said. "Why would he do that?"

Everyone turned to look at her. Mr. Pierce's hold on his daughter tightened and he glared back at them.

"...that wasn't Patches, Brittany," Artie said.

"Yeah," Quinn added. "And he's not Finn's uncle."

"Actually, he kind of is," Rachel said. "After all, Finn's mom and Kurt's uncle are married now, so that would make..." She faltered on her next words. "That would make-that man-Finn's uncle."

"Step-uncle," Puck said. He sat leaned forward in his seat. "Yo, Mr. Schue, when're we gonna see Kurt?"

"And Blaine." Mercedes looked around at the others. "We haven't seen him, either."

Mr. Schue raised his hands and limped on crutches to Ms. Pillsbury's side. "Look, guys. I know you're all worried about Kurt. But right now, what he needs is time. You'll see him when he's ready."

"Someone needs to be held responsible for this," Mrs. Cohen-Chang said. Tina sat beside her with a tissue in one hand, wiping at her watery eyes. "I've been talking to a lawyer-"

At the word 'lawyer', Figgins hurried back to the center of the room and what followed was a long, boring discussion between the adults that most of the kids tuned out. Tina hurried from the room midway through, stifling sobs into her tissue, but her mother was too busy insulting the school district to notice her absence.

The others slowly followed suit, until they were all gathered together in the hallway outside the classroom.

Mike was the first one out the door and he gathered Tina in his arms. Inside the choir room, the adults' voices were getting louder, angrier, despite Principal Figgins's attempt to restore order. Rachel was the last one out. She shut the door firmly behind her to block out the sound of one of her dads raising his voice in anger.

"So what do we do now?" Quinn said, looking around at the others as if they could give her the answers she was seeking.

Rachel spoke up first. "Kurt's house isn't too far from here. I say we go together as a team. You know, give him support during the aftermath of this horrific tragedy."

Mercedes shook her head. "But they just said he wanted to be left alone."

"Well, what do they know?"

"Ms. Pillsbury _is_ a guidance counselor," Mike said. "Wouldn't she know what we should or shouldn't do?"

"Besides," Puck said. "They've talked to his parents. We haven't."

Rachel turned her earnest face towards him. "Exactly. I bet they didn't even ask if he wanted to see us. It's not fair of them to block us out."

"You're being really selfish, Rachel," Quinn said. "This isn't about what you want. It's about what Kurt wants. And he doesn't want to see us."

"Fine," Rachel huffed. "I guess I'm the only one who really cares, then."

Everyone was staring at her with stormy expressions when the door opened and Ms. Pillsbury stepped out.

"Is everything okay out here?" she asked.

"Everything's fine." Rachel lifted her chin and stomped past Emma and back into the choir room, which had grown quieter with the adult's realization that their kids had walked out.

"Come on." Emma smiled and gestured back to the door. "It's okay, now. No more fighting."

The rest of the Glee kids allowed themselves to be herded back inside, though Tina stayed with Mike, sitting on his lap, instead of returning to the seat next to her mother. She rested her head on his shoulder with her hands wrapped loosely around his neck.

Rachel, used to ignoring the annoyed looks people gave her every day, sat up straight in her seat and attentively watched the debate unfold before them, making plans inside her head as parents and educators continued their discussion in calmer voices.

x

Kurt spent the week after IT happened downstairs with Blaine, who visited everyday, even getting permission from his parents to sleep over the first few nights, when Kurt refused to sleep because of nightmares.

Luckily, Finn's room had gotten added on before the last school year ended, so he was able to give them the space they needed. He wasn't completely shut out. Sometimes the three of them would gather together on Kurt's bed and watch movies and eat popcorn. Kurt didn't even care that it was covered in butter and salt, just tossed it mechanically into his mouth as he stared at the people dancing across the screen.

At noon Saturday, not even a week after IT happened, Rachel appeared on the Hummel doorstep.

Finn frowned down at her. "Rachel. What are you doing here?"

"I came to see Kurt," she said.

"I really don't think he-"

Rachel pushed past him, taking off her coat and hanging it on the coat rack by the door, talking as she moved. "I know my visit probably isn't quite welcomed, I believe it's in everyone's best interest that I come pay my respects."

"He's not dead, you know."

"We're worried, Finn." Rachel's face softened into something more hesitant, her eyes pleading. "We all are. Can't I just say hi to him?"

Finn gave in with a sigh. "Okay. Fine. But you say and then you leave. He's been really stressed lately."

They walked to the basement and opened the door quietly so as not to startle the two boys below. Rachel went down the first few steps by herself. Being so much lighter than Finn, her footsteps were silent as she moved down.

Kurt and Blaine were sitting on the side of the bed, facing the wall. Their heads were bent close together as they talked quietly. Rachel could see part of a book or a magazine, Vogue perhaps, spread out on Kurt's lap. Blaine's hand was on the small of his back, rubbing small circles that pulled lightly at the thick wool sweater Kurt wore.

At the first creak of Finn's big feet, they turned around. Rachel took the last few steps down and fidgeted at the foot of the stairs, waiting anxiously for Kurt's reaction.

It was Blaine who moved first, standing up and moving to round the edge of the bed. Kurt followed along behind him. Their hands were laced together, swinging lightly between them.

"Hey, Rachel," Blaine said in greeting. He glanced at Kurt. "I don't know that this is a good ti-"

Rachel flung herself forward and wrapped her arms around Kurt, burying her face against his chest.

"I'm sorry," she sniffed. "I'm so, so sorry."

A warm hand landed on the top of her head and petted her gently. She didn't know why she was the one crying. It hadn't been her that had been violeted so despicably. She shouldn't be crying. It took a bit of effort, but she managed to push away from Kurt's surprisingly toned chest and quickly compose herself.

"It's okay, Rachel." Kurt gave her a small smile. "I...well, I'm not fine, but...I will be."

She squeezed his hand. "Does that mean you'll come back to school?"

Kurt froze and glanced at the others. "I don't know. I don't think-" He took a deep breath. "I don't want to go back into that room."

His chin quivered. Blaine reached out for his free hand and he clutched it gratefully.

"Dude, no one's expecting you to come back all peaches and apples," Finn said.

"Cream," Rachel corrected him. "Peaches and cream."

"Right," Blaine added. "Kurt can take all the time he needs."

"So..." Kurt sighed again and put on a happier face. "Do you want to stay and watch a movie? I'm sure I've got some Barbra around here somewhere."

Finn pulled a face, but Rachel grabbed his hand and bounced up and down with excitement. He let himself be towed towards the bed, where they all piled on top of the covers. Kurt managed to extricate himself from the pile to go off in search of Rachel's top pick.

"Is he really okay?" she asked, watching Kurt's back as he rifled through his DVD collection.

Blaine shrugged. "This is a good day."

"I heard him talking to Burt about going back to school," Finn said.

Rachel brightened, then turned to Blaine with a speculative look in her eyes. "Do you sleep here?"

Blaine's mouth popped open and he stared at her. Kurt saved him from answering by hopping onto the bed with the remote in one hand, hushing everyone into quiet and ordering Finn to turn off the light.

Rachel snuggled against Kurt's side, Blaine doing the same on the other, while Finn hung awkwardly on the outside of the group huddle, his legs hanging off the side of the bed. Kurt could almost pretend it was a sleepover.

Blaine's hand ran up and down his arm large sweeps, and he relaxed into the touch, letting the soothing sensation wash over him. He was asleep before he knew it.

x

McKinley Hgh School didn't look any different than it normally did, Kurt knew, but the building still seemed to loom over him as he stood in front of its doors his first day back.

"You sure you want to do this?" Blaine asked. They stood together, as inseperatable as ever.

"Yeah." Kurt hoisted the messenger bag on his shoulder and tightened his hand on the handle. "I can't stay afraid forever."

"Okay." Blaine gave him a warm smile.

He hesitated when they got to the door, body tensing. He had to take several deep breaths and force himself to relax.

"I'm ready," he finally said.

They walked into the school together, hands inlocked, and for once didn't get any hostile looks thrown at them. The few people wandering the halls did give them looks, though, ones of pity that made Kurt's head raise high. He didn't want their pity any more than he needed their acceptance.

Kurt let his mind drift as they walked through the halls. He was so wrapped up in his own mind he didn't notice that Blaine wasn't leading him to his first class of the day but towards the auditorium where the Glee Cub often practiced.

"Oh, no," he protested, pulling away.

Blaine looked at him guiltily. "What?"

"No, Blaine. I am not going in there to get seraneded to for my 'misfortune'."

"How about I go in first?" Blaine suggested.

Kurt nodded. "Why don't you?"

Kurt was left out in the hall while Blaine went into the auditorium, but it was Rachel who come back out.

"Kurt," she beamed, taking his hands in her to pull him inside the darkened room. "I'm so glad you could make it."

There was a dim flickering on the stage.

"Rach-" he started to say, but she leaned up to whisper in his ear.

"Don't worry. We promised Blaine we wouldn't sing."

The overhead light burst on and the whole of the Glee Club popped out from behind seats to yell surprise.

Kurt jumped almost a foot in the air. "Oh my God!"

Mercedes came to him slowly as he tried to get his beating heart to stop its harried pounding.

"Hi, Kurt," she said shyly, hopefully. "We glad you're coming back to school."

"Yeah, dude," Puck added. "It wouldn't be the same without you insulting everybody's hair."

Kurt's lips twitched into a half smile. "Of course. Who else can keep you all from the fashion police better than me?" He looked pointedly at Rachel's cat sweater and sighed. "Well, almost everyone."

There was a titter of laughter and suddenly he was being pushed towards the stage where Mr. Schue, Miss Pillsbury, and cake awaited. From amid the crowd, Blaine smiled at him, love clear in his eyes.

There was no way to forget what had happened. Nightmares of that day would continue to wake him, sweaty and fearful, many years down the road.

But he knew he was loved. It would be enough to keep him from wallowing in misery.

Once to the stage, Blaine pulled him up the stairs and kissed him soundly.

Yes, Kurt thought to himself. It would be enough.


End file.
